


Cycles

by acyborglostintimeandspace



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acyborglostintimeandspace/pseuds/acyborglostintimeandspace
Summary: Howard comes home. Takes place one year after The Chokes.
Relationships: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14
Collections: Boosh Secret Santa 2020!





	Cycles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silentOrator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentOrator/gifts).



_ I'd follow you anywhere, anywhere _

_ if only I knew where you _ [ _go_](https://open.spotify.com/track/1GHXVtRkiOj96w7I2vdQWh?si=L59d3as_SlucF27T4Kjycg) _. _

The world was spinning. That creeping familiar feeling of emptiness was finding its way through Howard's skin. This was not home. It looked  _ familiar, _ his limbs had surely led him to the right place- but the feeling of solace was no longer there. He was sure it was evening; he had changed back his watch as soon as he got off the plane. Surely, the beginnings of the night scene were to be emerging from the woodwork. But the street was silent. No glam rock lollipop girls with bubblegum hair laughing alongside their metal-chain-wearing boy toys. Window plants had wilted, door hinges no longer creaked. There were no cabs, no lingering stinging scent of gasoline. Even the car that drove him here (only to the end of the street, mind you. Howard wanted to surprise his flatmates) was gone and done with, had left no trace.

It was dead. Like the magic had gone.

_ How much could change in a year? _

Denmark was an eyesore. Jurgen's people had taken him to some flashy art district in the middle of the capital. It gave Howard a headache. But mostly, it had given time to think. He preferred the gloomy English skies, that smell of the will-it-won't-it rain and the dewdrops on the bedroom window. His bedroom...no, that was what he missed most. No,  _ who. _ That peeking over a mess of black and sometimes red hair to look at the sunrise because he had lost the argument over who got the bed by the window. He hoped, someday, they wouldn't have to argue about separate beds. He hoped he could still mend things.

He shut his eyes and willed himself to look up again. Sure enough, the neon "Nabootique" sign had been taken down. The entire storefront was empty, and the monkey face logo, the one Vince had drawn in a notebook when they were kids and excitedly shoved into Howard's hands, the smile then too big for his baby face absolutely beaming, was gone. With a shaky breath, he pushed through the shop door. The sight made him miss even Vince's insulting graffiti.

Inside wasn't much better. Every shelf, including the one in the back with the knickknacks and telephones, had been cleared out. Howard's every footstep echoed through the empty space, bouncing off the blank walls and the ghosts of furniture. That ever-present green glow that made his friend's usually beautiful pale skin look sickly had been replaced by a dim flood of orange light, the kind normal people had in their normal stores. Howard had had enough of supposedly "normal" people during his time in the entertainment industry. Home was supposed to be different.

He sighed and dragged his suitcase up the stairs. If someone was home, surely they'd be in the main room. But even upstairs was dark, save for the room at the end of the hall. Faintly, he could hear someone humming along to an orchestral symphony, the soundtrack to a movie Howard had never seen but still bought the record for because he liked it. Okay, so no Bowie. Someone walked by the open door, carrying a stack of books. Under the light, Howard couldn't make out their face, but he could see they were wearing simple slacks and a dress shirt. Their hair was cropped to their chin, slightly shorter in the back than the front. And besides, that familiar click-clop of heels hadn't come.

Sudden realization dawned on Howard. It was possible Vince (and Naboo and Bollo, yeah yeah) didn't even live here anymore. He could technically be arrested for breaking and entering now. Was it breaking and entering if he had a key?

He cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly. "Hi, um, sorry." He called down the hall. "I'm Howard Moon, I live here? Or used to, I suppose. Are you the current resident?"

From the room came a thud and the scratching of a record. Cautiously, they emerged in the doorway. "'Oward?"

Something dark and hot flashed in Howard's stomach. "Vince?"

The younger man flicked the switch and light flooded the hallway, stinging Howard's eyes. The blurry pieces of Vince's appearance came together as his eyes adjusted. His outfit was as bland as he had seen before, shoes just black Oxfords and his hair, despite losing its length, still managing to look fashionable. Or it would have, if it wasn't dark blonde, almost brown, and the ends weren't so choppy. Howard's stomach sank even further as the image of Vince cutting his own hair to get rid of any trace of black flashed through his mind. Vince's face was severely lacking in makeup and glitter. His nose was the same as ever but his cheeks had lost their color and his big blue eyes had settled to a calm periwinkle-grey. He looked older. Howard assessed his own appearance. In age, they could be twins.

"What the blazes are you doing here?"

Howard blinked. "Wha- what did you just say?"

But Vince didn't respond, he only crept closer. Howard knew they were both doing the same exact thing: making sure the other man was real.

Vince circled him like a hawk assessing its prey before settling in front of him. Without his boots, he looked even smaller than usual. They stood in silence, pondering the other. Then, Vince's face broke out into his classic smile. But it felt empty, like the one he used to give older men in nightclubs before meeting them in the restroom. Then, like a wound, it dropped into a frown. He turned away and brought his thin arms up to hug himself.

"You were supposed to send me a postcard."

Howard resisted the urge to reach out, gather his friend up in a comforting hug, and never let go. "I know. I'm sorry."

Vince didn't respond.

Howard cleared his throat. "Where is everything?"

"I'm moving."

Howard's stomach dropped. "Moving?"

Vince walked back towards the bedroom and stopped in the doorway. "Our friendship was the only thing keeping this street alive. It was already breaking. You just took the final brick."

It was shockingly insightful. Howard followed Vince into what used to be their shared room, a path he had trekked so many times before, now unfamiliar. "So...where's my stuff?"

"You can't just come back here like nothing happened and expect things to be the same." Vince snapped.

"This is  _ my _ home, isn't it?" he said stupidly.

Vince huffed. "If you didn't want to stay, what was the point of leaving any trace of you? After you didn't come home for 3 months, I sold all your records. Then 6 months, it was your books and your instruments, and then 10 months, your bed. Everything is gone. You don't exist here anymore. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Glad to know you're making a living off all my favorite things." Howard looked around his friend, that shell of the person he used to know. The air smelled of dust, not that familiar sting of weed and chocolate. "Where are Naboo and Bollo?"

Vince shrugged absentmindedly. "Dunno. Don’t care. Probably on Xooberon somewhere. They left one night without warning around a week after you did and haven't been back since. Sold all their stuff, too." He was moving about the room, placing clothes and sheets and other random items into boxes with no rhyme or reason. Howard cringed. Despite the mess, the room was like the shop and the rest of the flat. Empty, devoid of life. Devoid of their life.

"You're here on your own?"

Vince shrugged. "I realized a long time ago I don't much miss them."

"Did you miss me?" He couldn't help himself.

Vince was silent for a moment then, "Are you just going to sit there and interrogate me all day? Enough with the questions already. Come here and help me."

Howard blinked at the sudden invitation. "Uh."

"Just fold up the stuff in that corner and put it in here." He threw a box Howard's way. It was labelled "pots and pans."

He parked his suitcase in the hallway and sat on the bed, just a stripped mattress.

"Look, there's no point in arguing, is there? It's all in the past. You're back now."

Howard's face went red. "Well, only for a month. and then it's back to Denmark."

Vince stopped mid-fold. "Denmark? I thought you went to Hollywood."

With a sudden rush of fondness for the domesticity of it all, cognitive dissonance rolling through his brain, Howard began to fold a sheet. "At first. We shot a commercial for a week. It aired and lots of people bought the product, so Jurgen decided he liked me, and we went to Denmark to shoot a movie. It comes out in a week, then we're back to work on the sequel." He bit his lip. "Have you....seen the ads?"

To Howard's surprise, Vince chuckled, that childish giggle replaced. "Watched them? I kept all your newspaper interviews and hung 'em up on the fridge. I like your photo better than the real you, I think. Talks less."

Howard's expression softened. "That's.....really sweet actually." Vince blushed at that, hanging his head. Howard smiled. "Thanks."

"Yeah."

Vince adjusted his hair. Howard couldn't help the tug in his chest. at least that hadn't changed.

"What do you  _ do _ all day?"

"I....read, mostly."

"Read?"

'Yeah." Vince shrugged again. "Isn't that what grown-ups do?"

"I don't know. I'll ask one and find one."

But Vince didn't laugh. "I used to tend to the shop. For a few months, business was booming. When word got around that Vince Noir likes books better than beer now, we got loads more customers. Who knew the trendies of Camden have a secret academic side?"

Howard wanted to make a comment about all this being another trend but instead he just said, "You don't go out?"

Vince smiled sheepishly. "Doctors orders."

"Oh." The nicotine patches on Howard's own arm burned.

"Honestly though, Howard. I'm proud of you. Being an actor, it's what you've always wanted."

"Thanks."

"Uh huh."

"Vince?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

For a moment, Vince just smiled that little fake smile again, but Howard watched as his Adam's apple bobbed and his lip began to quiver. "Ha, I mean. What do you think? You- they- I..." He trailed off as his sobs grew more severe despite his attempts to suppress them.

"Hey hey, it's alright." Howard reached out a hand but didn't dare go closer. Despite how much his friends appeared to have changed, Howard couldn't forget his explosive and often unpredictable emotions.

VInce sniffed and managed a laugh. "I spent all this time imagining the day you'd come back. I isolated myself away from everyone and anyone. I tried  _ so hard _ to build up a tough skin against the world. But here I am, doing exactly what I promised my-myself I wouldn't do." He ran a hand over his face. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay." Howard looked down. "I'm sorry I left."

"No.  _ No. _ I'm sorry I pushed you away."

That was...certainly a development. "We both went wrong. And we've both learned over this past year. I- I hope we can grow as, you know, friends." He nearly whispered the last word.

They smiled at each other, distracting Vince. He stepped back without looking and knocked over a box of shampoo bottles. One, made of glass, shattered and spilled its contents over the pile of clothes sitting next to it.

"Oh shit  _ fuck, _ oh no oh no oh no-"

"What is it?" Howard stood as Vince rushed to the floor and tried to scoop up the liquid with his hands.

"Go into the other room! Leave me alone!" He gave up on the shampoo itself and instead began pulling items out of the pile. "F _ uck. _ "

"Alright, Defense Dan. Let me help."

"No!" Vince looked back up at him, eyes blown wide and shifted so he was hiding the items with his entire body. In one hand, he was manhandling some fabric, wound into a ball in his fist.

Howard stood and tried to get a better look. "What even is that anyway?"

"I said. Go. Away. I don't want you to see."

Howard couldn't help himself. Force of habit. "Come on, it's just a shirt."

"You know how much fashion means to me!" It was dramatic and stupid and, Howard realized, so unbearably  _ Vince _ . Howard felt the tips of his ears go hot, a fire waiting to be ignited. Of course.

"A shirt? You're crying over a damn piece of clothing? I thought we were finally,  _ finally _ getting someone. But I guess you haven't changed too much."

Vince looked at him in horror. "You know what? This is so typical of you! This!" He shoved the shirt towards Howard but quickly tore it away, "Happens to be important to me! Why can't you just leave it?"

"You know, for a second there, I thought maybe,  _ maybe _ . But no. You're still the same."

But there was no response, no witty remark. Vince just sobbed harder, grasping the clothing to his chest. Then, Howard realized.

It was an old Hawaiian shirt. One of  _ his _ old Hawaiian shirts. The purple one with the little orange and blue swirls. He liked that shirt a lot back in the day but hadn't packed it in an attempt to leave his old self behind. He looked over Vince's appearance again. Sure enough, his outfit fit him in all the wrong places. The dress shirt even had stitches on the elbows where certain handmade patches used to be.

"You didn't sell my clothes."

"I said-"

"I didn't know."

Vince stared. "Exactly! How could you not know? We've known each other since we were eight, and you never saw me, how much I was struggling, how much I needed you! You never bothered to care how I felt about you! You just left!"

Howard stared back.

"O-oh. You were talking about-"

"I just meant the....I'm sorry." He sat back down, this time on Vince's bed, closer to him. "Look, it's okay. I was just gonna throw all that stuff out anyway."

Vince sniffed and looked down. "On my own, I couldn't afford a whole new wardrobe. Had to nick off my boring friend. Plus, I couldn't bear to part with your favorites. And I realized-" His body shuddered, and he put a hand over his mouth in an attempt to suppress the sob that followed. "I guess it was just another way of me being hopeful about you coming back." The last word was cut off by another sob, and Vince drew further into himself.

Howard softened and moved closer. "I'm here now."

To Howard's fear, that only made Vince cry more. Suddenly, he stood and moved onto the bed before leaning forward into Howard's chest and crying harder than before. Howard sat awkwardly, unmoving before deciding to put an arm around the younger man. After a few moments, Vince stopped crying and turned towards the window, still leaned on Howard's torso, a look of pensiveness washing over his face. They sat in silent for a few moments and then,

"I kept some of your vests, too. Wear 'em to sleep."

"Vince...I'm sorry I left you for all this time."

"You already said that." He looked over at him. "But thanks."

"If I had known you'd be alone-"

"Howard." No one had ever said his name with such meaning. "Look, you said it yourself. We both made mistakes. I- I'm sick of this. Of pretending like you don't mean everything to me. Of the bickering over nothing."

"Me too." Howard moved so his chin was resting on Vince's hair. It smelled like strawberries. It smelled familiar. "I spent the entire plane ride rehearsing what I'd say to you when I got back. I was going to apologize, not just for leaving, but for staying. For staying the same, for expecting you to be like me when I was barely anyone worth being anyway."

"And I spent this past year trying to be like you. I don't get it. How do people figure out who they are so early?"

"That's what I asked myself everyday for twenty-five years. You always seemed to be so....happy."

"No, you did! No one had the self-confidence to be proud of enjoying stationary as much as you did."

Howard laughed. "Still do, mind you."

"That rhymed."

"Poof."

"Wanker."

"Hey!"

Vince laughed and cuddled closer, turning serious. "I hated being that person so much. And I want to change. I was addicted. Not just to the drugs or the alcohol but to the lifestyle.”

"Me too."

Despite himself, Vince giggled. “Just two stupid, fucked-up assholes. That’s us. Maybe that’s why we fit.”

Howard smiled and let out a relieved sigh. He hesitated for a moment but reached out and ruffled the younger man's hair. "There's the Vincey-Princey I know."

"Oh, hush. No one ever actually called me that."

"Well then, I'm claiming it. Can't very well be calling you 'little man' anymore, what with you being so smart. What did you say earlier? 'What the  _ blazes _ are you doing here?'"

"Howard?"

He stopped himself. "Yeah?"

"I hate being a grown-up."

"I know. Me too."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"I didn't get rid of your records either." He nodded towards the wardrobe. "Coltrane's big face is cuddled in there with all my jumpsuits." He cuddled closer so his face was hidden again, mirroring his words. "I ended up liking your stuffy records, when I tried. Maybe we can....listen to some jazz together sometime? Dunno."

"Do you know how many times I listened to 'Cars' while I was away?"

Vince smiled. "You're someone worth knowing. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Howard frowned. "Me? Or the person I pretended to be? Or the person deep inside of my head, shrouded in darkness, locked behind an intangible door?"

"Oh hush up, Mr. Sad Poems." Vince hid closer. "All of it. All of you. I love all of you."

Howard blinked. "Really?"

Vince turned bright red and turned his face away. "No, shut up. I never said that, don't look at me." Howard could hear the smile in his voice. In an unexpected bout of confidence, he pressed a kiss to the top of Vince's head.

"I love all of you, too. You are so worth knowing."

Vince looked up. His face was only millimeters away from Howard’s. "You're so cliché, you know that?"

And Howard kissed him. He kissed him until they needed to catch their breath, then he kissed him again. For a moment, the world didn't matter. For a moment, things were full of hope. In change, there is familiarity. And in familiarity, there is love. In a year from now, there would be a happy cottage in the countryside with fresh baked bread next to happy plants on window sills and doors that creaked just the right way and happy content kisses on Sunday mornings. But for now? Somewhere on that empty street, in between two bricks, a flower bloomed.

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun working on this and participating in the secret santa event! hope you liked it!


End file.
